Little Girl Lost
by Dame of Gallifrey
Summary: Agent Carolina wasn't anyone's friend. Wasn't anyone's girl. She was a soldier. To the core. She knew her duty and did it well. York would change that. He'd make her remember what she was so desperate to bury. And she'd leave a legacy none would forget.
1. Reassignment

The Pelican rumbled, and finally touched down after hours of flight. The roar of its engines continued to deafen before slowing to a stall and finally shutting off. For the first time since we'd taken off, I was able to hear myself think, and organize my thoughts. I was here.

I filed out of the Pelican with the others, shouldering my not-even-full duffel. It never failed to affect me at times like this, when I carried my whole life on my shoulder. But then, that was who I was, who I had become. I looked around, surveying this new base, the other new recruits. They were all older than me, no surprises there I suppose. It was nothing I wasn't already used to. Like me, they were busy surveying our new surroundings. And I got plenty of looks. Looks that said, "why are you here" and "go home girlie." I was used to those looks, however, and the words and actions that went along with them. But I'd worked to hard, and sacrificed to much to be cowed by a group of disgruntled soldiers.

This base, this headquarters, was unlike any I'd ever seen. From the outside it was less obvious, but the lack of tents, or any temporary structure gave it away. Here it was all concrete and steel. Obviously, they planned on staying for a while. Inside, the yard rumbled with enough action to challenge an angry bee hive. Soldiers wearing MJOLNIR armor ran laps, shot at targets, climbed through an absolutely lethal looking obstacle course. It was all constant activity, constant training. It made me buzz to start running, climbing, do anything but stand here. I'd never seen any soldier wearing MJOLNIR before; it only went to programs like this. Programs that were looking to make super soldiers.

I followed the line of other recruits to a theater style room, not bothering to keep my head down, despite the ever increasing stares, now not just form the other recruits, but the armored soldiers, even those who looked liked the program's officers and doctors. Let them stare. I knew exactly who and what I was. I belong here. As we took our seats in the theater, a man in a suit stepped forward to the podium set at center-stage. Was this the mysterious program's enigmatic director?

"Greetings, Recruits, and as your Counselor, I welcome you to Project Freelancer, an experi-"

Ah. Not the Director. And not very interesting. As this "Counselor" droned on about their A.I. experiments, I recalled my fateful last meeting with my old CO, the one that had set me on this course.

* * *

"Come in, Private"

"Sir." I stood, wondering why my sergeant had called me in. Did someone complain about me again? It figured.

"Daniels, do you know why you're here?" he stood behind his desk, which was covered in papers and maps...and my file?

"Sir, I am afraid I do not." I stood tense. Not another reassignment, I prayed. I actually liked it here.

"At ease, Daniels, you're not in trouble. I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition, sir?" Yep, definitely getting reassigned.

"Chance of a lifetime. I'd do it, if I wasn't here. Ever heard of a program called Project Freelancer?"

Project Freelancer. Everyone knew the rumors. The elite super soldiers. The dangerous A.I. The stories of men gone mad.

"Only rumors, sir, nothing worth mentioning."

"Well then, I'll explain it to you. Project Freelancer is an experimental program endeavoring to create super soldiers aided by new experimental A.I. What do you think of it?"

I think that's a lot of "experimental"s.

"That sounds...different, sir. Interesting, I suppose, though."

"This Project Freelancer needs elite soldiers, Daniels, soldiers that are better than all others, who can survive where all others fall."

"You're reassigning me." No need to pretend otherwise.

He sighed then, "Daniels, you're one of the best soldiers, best fighters, best goddamn survivors I've ever commanded. And you're 22. 22 years old, Daniels. There are men twice your age who could never, at any point in their life do what you can do now. I'm not letting you be just another foot soldier. Your future is brighter than that, you can do more than that. "

I gulped, "I understand, sir, I'll go pack," Reassigned, again. No matter how fancy he dressed it up. No surprises. But this place, this sergeant, he was different. He respected me and my capabilities. At least I thought so. I turned to leave, but before he could, he caught my arm.

"Daniels, no. Rebecca. You've been through hell, and it's made you impossibly strong. Don't waste that strength."


	2. First Impressions

"Agent Carolina?"

I looked up from my bunk where I'd been sitting alone for the last half hour, sorting through my few worldly possessions. In my hand, I held my new tags. My new identity. The name by which I was now addressed by the man standing above me. He stood tall in tan armor, but held his helmet in hand. His hair matched the shade of his armor, and a bandage wrapped around his left eye.

"Yes?"

"I'm New York. You can call me York, though. Everyone does. Nice to meet you." He brushed an armored hand through his hair, all the while with this arrogant, annoying little smile. Him? He was my partner? This smug idiot, whom I could tell, from one sentence and action, thought he was amazing and didn't give a shit what anyone else thought?

"You. You are my partner." Under my breath, I muttered, "You've go to be fucking kidding me."

"While my assignee may seem foolish, I assure, he is most capable." I stared with wide eyes at the little green man, standing between New York and I. What the hell?

"Ah, sorry. You look confused. This here's Delta, my AI. D here's quite the guy, helped me out of more than a few scrapes."

I nodded, the situation making a little more sense. So this was one of Freelancer's AI's. "Nice to meet you, Delta." He, at least, seemed professional. Unlike his fool partner who was grinning like an idiot.

"But it's not as nice to meet me?" he asked with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.

"...Not nearly as much," I answered, unlike him, seriously. But apparently, he found that hilarious, as he burst out laughing. My eyes narrowed. I did not like this man. Finally my patience wore out.

"Are you quite done?"

"Sorry, sorry, Carolina. But you, you are one funny girl."

I sat there, fuming. I was not here for his amusement. And still, he could not control himself. A grown man, and a soldier no less, should not be giggling like a school girl for God's sake.

"Stop it."

"Uh, what?" he said, fighting back laughter.

I rose. I did not appreciate this. I'd spent the last four years at the butt of everyone's jokes, as the joke, never taken seriously. I was tired of it. Here, here I would be respected, and I didn't care what it took. That's when I let go, let all my rage fly out. My fist connected squarely with his nose, and I felt a satisfying crack beneath my fist. He flew backwards, landing on his backside.

"DO. NOT. LAUGH. AT. ME."

"Jesus! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I am not here to entertain you. Remember that." With that I abandoned my bunk, and stormed away, not knowing where I was going, and not caring. I unclenched my fist, and put the tags I'd been holding the whole time around my neck.

Agent Carolina wasn't going to take anyone's shit.


	3. Daddy's Girl

Only a few hours after my fateful first meeting with my "partner", I stood in the yard with the other recruits. We all wore our new Project Freelancer shirts, pants, and combat boots. No one wore armor; apparently we didn't get that until we were approved for implantation. We stood in line, at attention, waiting as the drill sergeant walked up and down the line, inspecting us, scrutinizing us, testing us.

"Well, well, well, looks like we got a batch of children sent to us today. What'd you know about that?" He paused, wanting us to move, twitch, anything. Anything he could use against us, and he could use everything against us. At least from me, he'd get nothing. "Well children, today you'll be running the course here. Lets us see where you are skill wise. Well! What do we have here!" The sergeant stopped in front of me. Except for the bead of sweat that trickled down my back, I remained immobile. "A real life baby doll, right here in my training yard! Does your daddy know you're here, baby doll?" My jaw clenched, and I felt the weight of the tags not my own that I wore weigh down my neck like an anvil on a chain.

"No, sir, my father does not."

"AW! How sad! Did you run away when daddy didn't buy you the pretty dress you wanted!" There were a few titters at that, and almost indiscernible smiles and smirks. Normally, I would have kept my mouth shut, but this was my father-

"No sir, my father does not know because he is dead. From fighting this war...sir." That brought the smirks and tittering to a sudden stop. People were never keen on laughing at a fallen soldier's daughter.

"Well, then," the drill sergeant continued, pressing on after a moment of awful silence, "perhaps you can show us what a soldier's daughter is capable of. You will be running the course first." And now he was trying to show I couldn't affect him, that he was in charge. This man had already lost most of the respect I had for him. "The course is filled with obstacles-walls, trenches, holes, and armed enemies of course." He beckoned to a table filled with weapons. "You may choose one."

"Yes sir," I said stepping forward. The table was filled with rifles-assault riffles, battle rifles, sniper rifles, even a few shotguns, and a rocket launcher? Really, a rocket launcher? All much too bulky, all needed two hands.

There. In the corner, overpowered by its flashy neighbors sat a small handgun. A pistol. Small, one-handed, able to be tucked into a boot or a belt, Perfect. I picked it up, familiar with the weight of the standard UNSC gun. It was basic, yes, but the basics existed for a reason; they were stable. There were a few more titters at my choice but I inspected it, ignoring them. Paint pellets? The sergeant could've said something. 'Let them laugh,' I thought, 'They'll see.'

I stood at the entrance of the course, feeling the eyes of everyone upon me. The recruits, the other agents. Somewhere, I knew New York watched.

"Sir."

"Well-" he looked down at a clipboard, "Agent Carolina, show us why you're here." Now I would put all doubts at my presence here to rest.

I ran into the course, tuning out everyone and everything but my surroundings. Even running with a gun in hand, I took in every bit of the course. A wall opposed my path with no obvious way around it. Up and over then. I remembered the sergeant's comment about enemies, and paused at the wall, silencing myself, straining to hear. Rustling of clothing, creaking of armor.

So there was someone waiting for me behind the wall. I ran a couple meters back, and rushed the wall, keeping my gun in my right hand for my unknown adversary. I propelled myself up the wall with my right foot and free left hand, quickly reaching the top. This was the tricky part; I couldn't let them get a shot at me before I was over.

Alright, Becca, why don't you show 'em what we've got.

With my left hand, using my feet to push off the wall, I pulled myself over the wall, my body following. I strained my neck forward, and seeing the armored man preparing to take the shot, brought forth my right hand and shot him first. The fancy somersaults always threw them off for a few valuable seconds. With the man down, I concentrated on the flip, feeling my body go perpendicular to the ground, and made sure my feet went first. Like a cat, I landed on my feet, and wasted no time in taking off again. I ran, high on adrenaline, seeing everything. A few more guards appeared and I took a second each to shoot them. Those rifles were too bulky, too slow; would they never learn that? The rest of the course was a blur of trenches and walls and obstacles.

Until a hole appeared in the middle of the ground.

The end was in sight, and I could see the men and women at the finish. I sighed and looked around. The hole was more a giant fucking gap in the ground than a hole. No one was around, and even if they were, I would need both hands. I stuck the gun into my belt, and looked around once more. The hole was probably 10 meters across and 10 meters deep. Walls rose against the sides, walls with handholds. They wanted us to scale across, but that was too slow. Then I noticed something. Two somethings. Two bars stretched over the hole from wall to wall. It was practically poetic.

I rushed straight at the hole, ignoring the walls. Hell, the walls didn't exist at that point. I leaped into the air, my arms out stretched, my hands seeking.

I felt the sting of metal smack my hands. But it was a good pain. That pain meant it worked, that I hadn't fallen. On instinct alone, I swung around the bar, gaining momentum. Without hesitation or worry, I leapt to the second bar. I swung around this bar only once before jumping off, landing perfectly, my feet planted solidly on the ground. For a moment, I had the inane desire to put my hands in the air, showing off my dismount, before taking off once more. Instead my only celebration was a small mental smile I kept locked tight. I sped across the finish, sliding to a stop.

"WELL I'LL BE DAMNED!" I heard the sergeant exclaim. "That's the best first run I've seen except for Texas! 'Course a few fancy tricks don't mean nothing on a battlefield!"

"Yes, sir, Drill Sergeant!" I said, all the while, mentally rolling my eyes at his thought that I wouldn't be able to handle a battlefield. If only he knew...

I grabbed a bottle of water and watched the others go through. Some blasted through, while others tried a stealthier approach, but no one, however, tried the bars. Looking up, I noticed that people still stared. But now, instead of contempt, anger, and amusement at my presence, there was curiosity, confusion, and even a little awe. Yeah, I'd take that any day.

Meanwhile York stood nursing his set broken nose, standing beside a soldier obscured by shadows.

"Well how about that. That little girl almost broke Tex's record," York smiled down at his new partner.

"Yeah. She'll do. Keep an eye on her." With that, the soldier walked away, leaving York alone.

York stood staring down at Carolina, and whispered to no one, "What's your story, girl? What led you here?"


	4. Welcome To the Freak Show

The supposed meat quivered at the poke of my fork before reverting to its original form. I knew I'd eaten worse... I was having trouble remembering it, but I knew I had.

Ah, well I suppose that's the hazard of repressed memories.

I sat alone in the mess hall at the end of my first day in Project Freelancer. The other recruits sat huddled at a table across the hall, talking and laughing; they made it clear I wasn't welcome. I couldn't say I either cared or was surprised. It was something I was used to, and something I'd grown to encourage. How pitiful, I was, to be worrying over them.

Mired in thought as I was, I didn't hear the footsteps of heavy combat boots until they were only a few feet away. I kept my eyes on my food; I was in no mood to talk to anyone.

Go away, go away, go away, I chanted in my head.

The footsteps stopped at the edge of my table. Today it seemed, they weren't answering prayers.

"Can I sit?" My head snapped and my eyes automatically narrowed at his voice. New York.

"How's your nose?" I asked. Fatigue and irritability at this situation added a layer of sarcasm and venom that usually wasn't there.

He smiled. That ass had the gall to smile. So help me if he laughed...

"Look, Carolina, right? We got off to a bad start. Let's start fresh."

I looked at New York again. He wasn't wearing his armor anymore, which made him a few inches shorter and a bit slighter. He had one of those wiry builds, much like myself, almost. The bandage on his eye looked fresh...odd, the one from this morning hadn't looked in need of changing...for a bandage to be changed so frequent, the wound must be new.

"Hmpf. You might as well sit. Unless I can somehow stop you?" The ass smiled wider.

"Hey now," he said, seeing my darkening expression, "that was a smile. Not a laugh. Never said I couldn't smile."

I raised an eyebrow. He was insufferable. Unphaseable. "Next time, I'll be sure to be more thorough." I turned my attention back to my tray of food. I wasn't going to spend more time on him than I had to.

New York spoke before I could lift my fork to my mouth, "You don't want to eat that."

"Excuse me?" The idiot was not only going to pester me to universe's end, but was now going to keep me from my dinner? This wasn't happening.

"Well, maybe you do, I don't know, you're a strange girl. Perhaps you like eating garbage." He smiled again(did he do anything else?), only this time only one corner of his mouth rose. How cute, he thought he was clever.

"Well then, if I don't eat this, what do you propose I do eat? Or perhaps it is your plan to weaken me through malnutrition and allow training to kill me, leaving you without the new 'child freak' of the Project," I spat this out, turning his jest into something more serious and dark. Let him handle that. He stared at me then, his smile faded, something dark in his eye. I stared back, neither of us moving.

Finally New York pushed his chair back from the table. Now at least, I could get some peace. At least I thought so until I was yanked out of my chair.

A hand gripped my upper arm, and pulled me up, causing me to nearly trip myself in the legs of mt chair, knocking it to the ground,

"What the hell?" I shouted as I was spun around face to face with New York. I knew the clatter of my chair, and then my shout had attracted the attention of everyone in the hall. I was beyond caring. What the fuck was his problem?

New York loomed over me, staring me down. If he expected me to be intimidated by his height or glare, he was sorely mistaken. I was 5'3"; I expected people to loom over me. And I just stared right back, waiting for an answer to my question.

"Come with me," his voice was barely a whisper, tightened by...anger? He clutched my wrist and pulled me along behind him.

In all honesty, I could've stopped him. I could've never moved a foot. But...

But what had possessed him so? What was he so insistent on showing me? So I followed, allowing him to lead me by the wrist, easily keeping pace with his long strides.

At the end of the corridor he dragged me through, I saw a glimmer of an evening sky. The reds and oranges and pinks of an ending day. Where was he taking me? Outside? He stopped us in a balcony that extended out from the corridor, and pulled me forward.

"Look," he said, pointing out over the balcony's edge. We stood over the yard, looking down at Freelancers training in the fading light, the dying sun glinting off their armor.

I sighed. What was the point of this?

"What am I looking at, New York?"

"That's Oakley. Right there," he said pointing to an agent in blue and yellow armor. "She could shoot an apple off your palm from a 100m away with a battle riffle.

"That, over there, is West." He pointed to a man running laps in gray and violet armor. "West could tell you the force, angle, and trajectory needed to land a grenade in a mouse hole, and then do it, inside of 30 seconds.

"Over there, going through the course is Iowa," this time in brown and red armor. "Iowa can fade into a shadow and disappear in front of your face as easy as tell you the time."

He stopped then and just watched them, staring out with a touch of sorrow in his gaze, surprisingly somber.

"That's all very well and good, but what's your point, New York?"

"My point is... we're all freaks. Every single one of us. And if you weren't you wouldn't be here. And if you are a child, congratulations because you're here and everyone else can go fuck themselves if they think you shouldn't be."

I watched him as he gripped the banister in front of him, still looking out over the yard. Slowly, he turned his face to mine.

"Do you get it, Carolina?"

"Yeah, I think I do, New York," I whispered, oddly comforted by this enigma, this contradiction of a man - a man who acted ridiculous and arrogant, and then did this...

"Oh, and Carolina? It's York."


	5. Nightmares and Memories

Fire rose all around me, flames rising higher and higher. A wave of heat pushed away from the inferno, threatening to knock me to my knees. Smoked circled around me, forcing its way into my lungs. Oh god, I couldn't breathe! I had to get out!

I was frantic, spinning around, looking, searching, begging for any hint of possible escape. Oh god, oh god, oh god. All the while, the flames rose higher and higher, growing to meet my panic.

There!

A glimmer of green! A break in the wall of fire! I pushed towards it, ignoring the burning kisses the walls of my fiery prison gave me. I had to get out.

And then.

The fire was gone. The smoke was gone. I stood in a lush green meadow, the wind blowing ever so softly, completely untouched by the blaze. In the middle of the field...a charred and ashen doll. no.

"Why did you let me die?"

No.

* * *

The pillow muffled my scream.

I woke from the nightmare shuddering, and shaking, and clutching my blankets.

I was covered in a cold sweat, and felt that my clothes were soaked through. Suddenly, I couldn't stay here. I couldn't lie in this bed in this room with my peacefully sleeping other recruits. With no destination in mind, I slid from bed barefoot.

Wandering through the compound, I let my mind drift. I didn't stop to think on anything; I couldn't afford to think right now. It was dangerous.

I stopped. My aimless midnight excursion had brought me to the yard, which in every waking hour was a constant hive of activity. Now, in the middle of the night, with a rain I hadn't noticed pouring down, it stood silent, empty, unmoving. I stepped out into the yard, letting the rain hit me, praying it would wash away everything. The sweat, the nightmares, the memories.

Rain, rain, make it all go away.

When morning came, and the other recruits woke, I still sat up, never having dared sleep again. Sleep was dangerous. I dressed in a daze, listening to the two other female recruits' chatter. I knew their names now: California and New Mexico. New Mexico and California had become friends, and we're always chattering in some way.

We'd been here three weeks already, and this our 4th, was supposed to be the last of our training. As I followed the two out, I noticed their nerves ran higher than usual. I suppose they were excited that they'd be real agents soon; me? Well I hadn't had a full night's sleep in a fortnight, so I wasn't much excited about anything.

In the back corner of my mind, I knew why the nightmares haunted me, knew why they'd risen from where I'd locked them, but I refused to acknowledge it. I had time yet.

After our first day, we no longer trained in the main yard; instead we were sequestered off in an auxiliary one, just we six recruits, and our drill sergeant. As we filtered into the yard I watched the male recruits arrive: Louisiana, Vermont, Illinois. I knew their names, their faces, their voices, and their skills. But after three weeks I couldn't tell you anything about them. I didn't know them. The only person I had any inkling of knowing was my annoying, childish, arrogant, and idiotic partner, New York, who like clockwork, stood waiting in an observation booth above the yard. And I, like clockwork, ignored him. After his brief moment of somberness my first day he'd reverted to from, a cockeyed smiling fool.

I wasn't the only one with a senior partner: New Mexico was with Arizona, and Vermont was with Nebraska. But I was the only who was constantly dogged by mine.

I was walking towards a wall where I could lean against it, and gain a few seconds' rest when the ground slid out from under me, going perpendicular to where it ought to be. Unfortunately my feet went with the ground. I threw my arm out for the wall, grasping for anything that could keep me upright. However this was not my morning, and the one thing within reach that could keep me from falling happened to be Louisiana. He was supposed to be on the other side of the yard with Illinois and Vermont! I stumbled, still uneasy on my feet, falling into Louisiana.

"Hey, baby, all you had to do was ask."

That smug ass! He grinned wide full of confidence, and more narcissism than possibly healthy.

Disgusted and angry with everyone, myself included, I shoved him away, already needing this day to end.

"Fuck off, Louisiana."

"Hey, you're the one who fell into me, you freaky little bitch!" I hated being called a bitch. Almost as much as I hated being called little. Little was the worse curse in my dictionary.

I turned back to him, about to tell him what he could do to himself when he cut me off-

"But then, I guess, I wouldn't be able to stand up straight either, if I was having screaming nightmares every night."

I froze, feeling every part of my body go still and my blood stop. How did he know about that? The men roomed across the yard. He shouldn't have heard...

"Oh, you don't like that do you?" he continued on, oblivious to my building anger. How were my dreams any of his business?

"The program must be awful scary for you, poor baby. It's okay though, Lou will protect you. In fact, maybe it'd be best if we just sent you home," he said in an awful coddling voice I despised. That however, unfroze me.

"Repeat that, Louisiana, I dare you." My voice was ice cold but full of fire and rage. I did not need this bullshit from this fucker. Especially not now.

He grinned wide, a sadistic glint in his eye. "I said, is it too scary for you lit-OOF!"

That was when my left fist so conveniently appeared in his gut. In the next instant my right fist caught up to my left, and flew through his nose.

"What was that, Louisiana? I'm afraid I didn't hear you." My voice was all ice covered in poison honey.

"You fucking pyscho bitch! What the fuck is a crazy bitch like you doing here?" he screamed through gushing blood, on his knees from my two punches.

This time my boot met his chest, knocking him on his back. I kept my boot planted there, not letting him back up.

"You'll have to speak up, Louisiana. I can hardly hear you."

"YOU FUCKING-"

"Carolina! What is going on!" I heard New York's calls, too close to be from above.

Suddenly I was yanked back, and my feet were in the air. Arms wrapped around my chest, pulling me off Louisiana and the ground.

Fucking New York.

"Let go of me, right now, New York!" I screeched. How dare he! I kicked back, trying to hit him, but apparently he'd done this before, and knew how to held me so I couldn't connect any of my kicks. Louisiana staggered to his feet, clutching his nose, his face and hands bloodied. Good. I hope his nose stayed crooked.

"You fucking bitch! I'll kill you!" And then, then New York wasn't holding on so tight.

My foot connected with Louisiana's ribs, throwing him into the dirt once again. Where he belonged.

"Just you fucking try it, Louisiana. Just. You. Fucking. Try. It."


	6. Vertendus Annorum

I stood in the bunk room alone, fuming. How dare Louisiana! Where the fuck did he get off? And fuck California and New Mexico, too, for telling him!

"EUGH!" I let out a suppressed scream of anger and frustration. I picked up my boot and flung it at the wall, full of violent energy and without Louisiana to take it out on.

"Whoa. I see we've moved from breaking bones to flinging shoes...I suppose that's an improvement." I glared at New York, not having heard his approach, caught up in my anger, as I was.

"What do you want?" I hissed, tired and angry and frustrated. I want to rip my hair loose of its braid and run until I collapsed.

"I," he took a deep breath, "I want to help you, Carolina. I know you've been having nightmares and I - "

"I what, New York?" I cut him off, not needing to hear the rest. "What could you possibly do to make any of this better?"

"I just want to help you, Carolina, however that may be."

"YOU WANT TO HELP ME?" I let all of my anger out in that instant, throwing my hands in the air. "You, New fucking York, want to help me, Carolina. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."

"Carolina, please," he continued on, as if my anger meant nothing, as if I was a child throwing a tantrum, "I'm your partner, just let me in, please. And I will help you, however I can," he pleaded with me, as if his empty words meant anything.

"You know what, New York?" I let my voice drop back down to a whisper. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward, so only inches separated his face from mine. "Listen well, because I will only say this once. You. Are. My. Partner. Nothing more. It is my job to work with you on missions, and not let you get killed. It does not, _in any way_, mean you have to a right to my private life. So go ahead, and leave. me. the fuck. alone."

With that, I pushed him away, using the hand that had pulled him close, and the slammed the door on his sorry ass. I slid to the ground, alone again. _I can't do this anymore,_ I thought, as I let my face fall into my hands.

* * *

Midnight came at last too soon. Though the minutes had passed as if hours, it wasn't enough. It never was. I closed my eyes for but a second, before softly and silently sliding from my bed, conscious of California and New Mexico's sleeping forms. I crouched beside my bed, retrieving two small items from my bag before slipping out.

Rain came down this night as well. Gray water falling from a gray sky. I walked gingerly through the compound making my way to the main yard. I let the rain soak me; it seemed appropriate, and I was preoccupied. I didn't feel the cold of the cutting rain as it drenched my hair, hanging loose around my face, and soaked through my clothes to my skin. The cold only served to remind me that I yet lived.

I slid down to the ground of the yard. The rain was steadily turning the compact dirt into a damp mud. Slowly, with shaking and freezing fingers, I brought forth the items I had brought with me. A lighter and a candle. A small, pink birthday candle.

I fumbled with the lighter, my rain swollen fingers failing to ignite the spark. But sure enough, a flame appeared, fighting the pouring rain for its very survival. Slowly, ever so slowly, I brought the flame to the candle, lighting it. I shielded the flame with my hand, protecting it from the torrent. I sat there in the rain, ignoring it, the cold, and the mud. I would let the candle burn. Burn its bright beacon in the night.

I heard him approach. Through the rain and the cold and the pain and the memories, I heard him. I think I had been listening for him, waiting, in some hidden section of my mind, for him to come. Without realizing it, I'd been expecting him.

He slid into the mud beside me, saying nothing, making no sign that I was even there. I thanked him silently for that.

I stared into the flame of the candle, letting the memories flow.

* * *

_"Aren't you going to blow out your candles?"_

_"They're too pretty!"_

_"But then how will you get your wish?"_

_"I'll let them burn down, then. Let them burn bright and beautiful. Because even if I know they're going to die, I can't kill them."

* * *

_

I felt the tears then. They were as hot as the rain was cold, burning as they slid down my face. Only a third of the candle remained, and pink wax covered my fingers.

My breath hitched as I inhaled, and the tears still fell.

"Twelve."

I saw New York turn his face towards mine as I still stared into the flame.

"She'd be twelve."

With that, the flame died, finally burnt through. Another year gone. They never stopped turning... I stared at the wax on my fingers, not ready to move, not able to leave. The tears came faster now, and my breath hitched again. These tears would no longer be silent.

And then, I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders, pulling me close. Any other day, any other night, I would have broken his arm. But tonight, tonight I let myself be held, and be pulled into his side, and let the tears fall.

The rain would wash it all away.


	7. Regret

I leaned down with my hands on my knees, sweat clinging my clothes to my skin, my labored breathing coming out in short punctuated huffs. My ribs ached and my muscles screamed, but it felt amazing. Victorious. Completely and utterly worth it. Because at last, after two weeks of a screaming idiot drill sergeant and five other recruits, at least one of whom made my skin crawl with anger, training was over. Done. Come tomorrow, I'd be a full fledged agent of Project Freelancer. I'd receive armour and an A.I. And even better, my own room. No more suffering through New Mexico and California's constant inanity and chatter. No more worrying and watching my every move and word (although there weren't many) around them. Alone. How it was meant to be.

I heard the running of footsteps approach me. I sighed. Things were never as they were meant to be.

"Carolina! Congratulations! On your training, I mean." New York was so full of cheer, and always with a smile. Always trying to be bright.

Too bad it was all faked and forced.

But what did I expect? He was not the sort who would know that some things are best forgot, best left for time to erase. New York was a dweller, a contemplater. And I could not be.

"It's hardly worthy of congratulations," I brushed my knees off and stood up straight, staring past him. "It was just training."

"Well not everyone else handled it...quite so...nonchalantly as yourself." His gaze darted to the center of the yard where the shaking form of Louisiana had collapsed at the end of training. Such a melodramatic.

"I'd hardly put him as the bar at which to measured," I said walking past New York. I didn't particularly want his guilty-conscience-chatter, and I did particularly want a shower.

"Wait! Carolina." He called after me, reaching out to grab my arm, but stopped short, his hand hovering inches from my shoulder. "Um...sorry. Look, uh, just don't go to dinner tonight, okay?" He tried so hard to act the same around me, to show no change in demeanor.

I studied him for a moment, wondering what he was at, before turning back around and walking away.

I never should have let him in. For both our sakes.

* * *

_Why am I still here?_

The thought raced through my head, running laps, begging for an answer.

Six o' clock had come, and the bell for dinner had rung. New Mexico and California had left, staring at me as they did. Had they wondered why I stayed? Why I didn't move? I wondered as well.

And found myself, twenty-three minutes later, without an answer.

I sighed and turned over on my bed, wondering again. Why had I listened? Why hadn't he come? Why had he told me not to go to dinner in the first place?

Why.

*Rapp rapp rapp*

I bolted up from my bed, startled by the sudden noise. I swung my feet out of the bed and stood silently, paranoia washing over me, not wanting whoever was at the door to know I was here.

I didn't know why I was so paranoid...but then this whole project seemed to breed an inherent sense of it. In the logical part of my brain, I knew it was New York. But there was nothing logical about paranoia.

*knock knock ... knock*  
It was a question this time, more hesitant and quieter than the first.

"Carolina..." Through the cracks of the steel door, I heard his whisper, his distinct voice. So he had finally come after all.

I slid the door open to find New York standing there, nervously, and almost imperceptibly, twitching, decked out in black.

I lifted an eyebrow, "I see this is a covert affair?"

He glanced around him, nervous - why was he so nervous? "Carolina, we need to-"

"I need to put on something more stealth encouraging. And since you so seem to hate the hall, you'd best come in."

New York had come, but brought more questions than answers. What was it about this man? Everyone else was simple basic; they acted on their own desires and wants and wants. Everyone else could fit into the template of pre-fab humanity. What was it about him that made him so different? So...confusing?

I fished through my bag, looking among the few clothes I owned. And there, hiding in the corner, was a flash of black. Reaching in, I pulled out a black turtleneck, and black form fitting pants. I stuck my hand in again, and retrieved a pair of slender, yet sturdy knee high boots.

"I have to change, so turn around...or something." I turned back to New York, who sat silent on California's bed.

"You have an outfit prepared?" he raised an eyebrow, or maybe both. The eye patch he'd traded his bandage in for made it hard to tell.

"Just turn the fuck around around or I'll break something near and dear to you. And it may or not be a bone," I snapped. He sighed, but complied, turning to face the wall.

I silently raced through changing, none too keen on him having any possibility to see me with this way. Even with California and New Mexico - I rarely changed in front of them.

My skin was cracked and scarred, overlaid with a matrix of bruises and scrapes, and the odd bullet wound. In no way could I hide from myself who I was.

But I didn't need those thoughts just then, and brushed them aside, as I finished changing. These clothes fit snug on my body, clinging so that no rustle of cloth would give me away. It was a very basic kind of stealth, but then, the basics existed for a reason.

"Alright, so what's this big and covert adventure of yours?" I turned back around to New York, ready for some answers.

He slid off the bed, turning to face me. He stared at my outfit, and then without a word, walked to the door, placing his hand on the door knob.

"You'll just have to see." With that he slid open the door and slipped through, disappearing into the hallway.

Without pause or thought, I rushed to follow.

I shouldn't have cared what he was up to, but I did. I shouldn't have followed him, but I did. I shouldn't have let him control this, but I did.

I shouldn't have let him control me, but I did.


	8. The White Rabbit

New York had a surprising grace and ease as he slipped between the shadows, almost disappearing into the darkness. I knew he was an infiltration specialist, but I'd always assumed with all his cocky arrogance that he was the type who knew how open closed doors, not how to act behind them.

We passed through deserted hallways going through parts of the compound I was unfamiliar with. It made me uneasy, being in strange surroundings devoid of anyone besides myself and New York. I wondered if the other Freelancers would notice the absences. Would they care? New york often was absent at dinner, but that was not my practice. None of this was. Again I wondered why I was doing any of this, why I hadn't ignored him. What had drawn me in?

Down the hall, New York had come to a halt, and threw a glance over his shoulder. Checking to see if I still followed? I paused for but a moment, then hastened to catch up. I needed some answers. When I was but a few yards from him, he slipped inside a doorway, disappearing.

Now I hesitated. The doorway led to a staircase, dark and impenetrable. All I could think was that I was somehow being set up, that if I followed him, something very bad would happen. But if I didn't...I would never get my answers.

Alice had her rabbit hole, and I had my dark stairwell. Alice had followed her White Rabbit. Followed free of fear or hesitation. But had she really? Had she never felt fear or doubt, the desire to turn back and forget she saw him? What, in the end, had made her go? Simple childhood curiosity no longer seemed sufficient an answer.

And so was my New York the White Rabbit? Did it matter? He had answers, answers I needed. I had to know what was going on. And to find out, I'd have to go down the rabbit hole. Fall, if I had to.

As I started down the stairs, resolute in my decision, my mind drifted from my control for a brief second, as the darkness wrapped around me: I wondered, who then, was the Queen of Hearts?

* * *

The darkness wrapped around me, blinding me fully. I kept my hand firmly on the rail, straining to hear New York. He had to be down here. A small part of me wanted to call out, and no longer be alone in the dark. But the rest of me quelled that part, pushing it down. I'd not cry out like a child.

My foot hit solid ground and the rail came to an end. I looked around, my eyes barely adjusted. Everything was black, although there were some slightly blacker forms. I turned my head and saw a faint light. If anyone was down here, they'd be there. Taking care to listen for any movement, any sign of New York or any possible ambush. I didn't trust this.

I kept my steps light as I weaved my way towards the light, avoiding the dark shapes. As the light grew nearer, I heard something. It was quiet; it was restrained; it was-

"YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?"

I stopped, frozen into place by the shriek. Who, or what, had that been? Something began to block out the light, and I hurriedly ducked down and to the side. What had all that sneaking been for after that?

I heard hushed placations but was unable to make out the words. I wasn't going to get anything sitting here, hiding in the dark. If I wanted to get my answers, I had to move. I had to go forward.

As I neared the light, I could begin to make out the words.

"...thinking, York?" a female voice, tightened with anger

"...wasn't..." a male voice, assertive, very military

"...where...anyway..." the nasally tone of a British accent drifted back

"...trust...trust me." New York

I strained to hear their words, but in doing so made a stupid mistake. I stopped listening around me, and stopped guarding my back. I didn't hear him until he was right up on me.

I ducked just in time to miss the arms that reached for me. Dammit! I was an idiot! I reached up, and grasped the right wrist and upper arm of the ambusher. Rising, I secured my grip on the attacker's arm and deftly flipped him over my shoulder into the light.

He moaned and then spoke.

"Lord, York really wasn't exaggerating about you." My attacker was a woman. A woman with braided red hair and a country accent. She winced a little as she picked herself off the ground, rubbing her back a little. She stuck her hand out with a smile.

"Name's Oakley. Nice ta meet cha, Carolina."

I gaped. I had thrown her on her back after she snuck up on me in the dark, and she wanted to exchange _pleasantries_?

I looked around the room for the first time, seeing those I'd heard before.

A man with silver white hair stood to the side, his arms crossed. He looked annoyed and slightly amused by the whole thing. An intense and inherent sense of superiority radiated from him. I already hated him.

Opposite him stood a man with clipped grey hair, and more than a few scars. He looked like one of those soldiers who are actually a decade younger than they seem, aged by battle and all its scars.

In between them stood a woman with vibrant red hair cut to her ears. She didn't look annoyed; she looked positively furious. The shrieker.

And in the center of it all was New York, standing there staring at me, with that strange somberness I'd seen only once before.

I opened my mouth and spoke softly:

"I think you need to tell me just what the fuck is going on here."


	9. FAQ

"Actually we don't. You however, need to leave and forget everything that didn't happen tonight," the angry woman snapped at me, clearly the one in charge.

"No, I don't think so. Because like it or not, I'm here. You can thank New York for that if you'd like, but I want some damn answers," I snapped right back; I would not be afraid of or cowed by this woman.

"Oh really? Well how about I just kill you instead?"

"Try it. Let's find out how that would go." I stared at her, refusing to back down.

"Tex," (so the angry one was Tex…Texas then) the other woman (Oakley? That would make her Oklahoma?) spoke up softly, "she's here. York obviously trusts her. Give her a chance."

"Chances get people killed, Oakley."

"She's right, Oak. This is too important," the grey haired man spoke up now.

"You don't get it, do you?" I spoke softly, restrained, "It's too late now. I know _something_ is up. And even if you don't tell me now, I _will_ find out later. Save us all some time, and tell me what the **fuck** is going on." I stared at New York then, "You got me into this. You owe me that much."

He stared at me, strangely sorrowful, "Something's not straight with the Project-"

"York." Texas stopped him, radiating fury and murderous intentions.

"She gets her AI tomorrow, Tex. She needs to know."

I stared at him. So this was about the AI…

"There's something wrong with the AI." When I spoke, it was not a question.

"They're different… different from any other AI in existence, well, at least in known existence," he smirked sadly a little before going on, "They're… they're not controlled."

My eyes locked onto his, "That is impossible. They're just computer programs-"

"Excuse me. I believe I may best illuminate this for Agent Carolina."

I stared at New York's AI, Delta, who I'd only ever seen a handful of times. Most of those times, he kept quiet.

"Go for it, D," New York looked over at Texas, daring her to say otherwise.

"Project Freelancer's AI are analogous to fragments, if you will. Each one piece of the whole-"

"So what's the whole?"

"That would be the Alph-"

"Delta. Basics only." Texas was angry still, but it seemed she'd at least allow this to an extent. A few answers were better than none.

"If you insist. It does make explaining this a bit more difficult." If AI could sigh, I swear he just did… "Since each AI is a fragment, there are fragments that are… unstable. Bad variants."

"Unstable?"

"Often times dangerous. For example, the Omega AI-"

"That is enough. She knows there's risk. You can't say I sent her in blind, York."

I stared at Texas. Why didn't she want me to know about Omega? And why had she stopped Delta from mentioning Alph-…Alpha? What was she hiding?

"No. You're just sending me in with half a dozen questions and not an answer to any of them."

"It's more than I knew."

No one spoke then. It wasn't exactly an awkward silence, but it was a sad, almost mournful one. New York quietly touched his bad eye, almost unconsciously. Had…had an AI done that? I remembered then something I hadn't consciously registered before, as absorbed as I was in what Delta had been telling me.

New York had flinched at the mention of Omega. Then I saw Texas watching New York. Had she caused the injury? Or had Omega been hers?

"We'd best go. We don't want Carolina to get missed, and we certainly don't need someone to come looking for her." I stared at the grey haired man. He was quiet, but authoritative, and no one had mentioned his name. However, he didn't seem to know that the only one who'd ever come looking for me had led me here.

New York nodded to him, then he and Oklahoma, following behind, left.

"See ya around, Carolina!" She was so cheerful and bright, despite the current somberness… what was wrong with her?

Texas and the white-haired man stood off to the side, away from New York and I. It was only then I realized he had said nothing… had been ignored completely… who was he?

"Come on," New York spoke softly in my ear, beckoning for me to leave with him. I knew the more here to be gained and mutely followed.

I waited until we had ascended the stairs and were back in the deserted hallway. I fell behind New York, and without warning or hesitation, grabbed his right arm and slammed him into the wall. I pressed his other shoulder up against the wall, my face now inches from his.

"Car…Carolina?" He was flustered and confused – in sharp contrast to my anger.

"Mind explaining what this was all about?"

The confusion didn't leave his face, "The… the AI… what we told you."

"Oh and I'm sure that was just your book club? That likes to meet in deserted sections of the compound and discuss the Project's bat shit crazy AI?"

"I must object to that-"

"And I must not care," I said cutting off the glowing green AI.

"I…I can't tell you anymore. For their safety, and yours."

I stared at him, my eyes hardly more than slits.

"I _will_ find out what you have gotten me into, York. Count on it."

He stood speechless, staring down at me.

I pushed myself away from the wall, and more importantly, from him. I walked away, no longer the follower, no longer the chaser. As it should be.

But then, through the empty hallway, I heard a final echoing whisper:

"_You called me 'York.'"_


	10. Sharing

I sat waiting, wearing my new armor and fiddling with the helmet I held. Today was the day. No nightmare, assholes, or ominous warnings from mysterious partners could change that.

I was the last of my implant group scheduled to go. To my surprise, the bright-haired and bright-eyed Oklahoma and her grim foil of a partner had been there. She had explained that training groups were not the same as implant groups, and that they had apparently been at the end of their training group, were forced to wait. Although she seemed excited enough for it, and her partner, whose name she'd said was Wash (I assumed she meant Washington), hadn't said much, rolling his eyes a few times and sighing at her outbursts of exuberance, I wondered if they were bitter about the wait. Or if they even wanted an AI. After the other night, I wasn't even sure I did.

Vermont sat beside me, Oklahoma and Washington already having gone, in his new violet and white armor. He himself seemed nervous but also like he was trying very hard to relax. Vermont was a quiet person, comfortable to be around. Unlike California or New Mexico he didn't need t fill the air with senseless chatter, and wasn't a pig like Louisiana. I had no idea how to compare him to Illinois.

"Agent Vermont?" One of the doctors called into the room. He pushed himself up, and gave me a silent salute before walking off.

I was alone now. Waiting, my thoughts drifted. What would it be like, I wondered, to no longer be alone in my own mind? Would it dredge through my thoughts and memories, unearthing things even I didn't dare touch? Or would I simply overpower and drown them out? Would I cease to be naught but a shell for this AI?

"Agent Carolina? If you'll come with me." My musings were thankfully interrupted by the entrance of one of the doctors.

"Of course." I began to heft my helmet onto my head before the doctor cut me off:

"Oh, no. Helmet off, if you will."

"Oh. Of course," I said, sliding the helmet off my head. I wondered how this would work…

The implantation room was bare, and what looked like a cryo-chamber stood in the center of the room. A window dominated the wall, behind which I knew, all they'd orchestrate the entire event.

Well, there and my head.

The doctor beckoned to the chamber, "If you wi-"

"Oh, I will already," I snapped at him on edge, nervous about my head becoming a veritable boarding house. I climbed into the chamber. Yeah, it was definitely a cryo-chamber. My blood thickened and pulse dropped only a few seconds in.

The doctor noticed me react to the chamber, "The cold makes it easier to monitor your vitals," he paused, visibly worried, "Agent Carolina, I feel I must tell you this. As this is all experimental, you-"

"I know the risks. Knew them when I signed on," I cut him off, knowing there was no backing out now. No matter what I did, or didn't, know.

"No, Agent Carolina, I'm afraid you don't understand. You will be getting _two_ AI."

"Two?" The word slipped out in a whisper on its own. And here I was worried about what _one_ would do to me…

"Yes, it is all experimental. after all." He looked almost apologetic when he said it…

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. No backing out.

"This may feel a bit odd." The doctor paused before closing me in, "And Agent Carolina, I believe you will handle this better than any other agent here."

And with that, he sealed me in.

I stood, waiting, apprehensive. What would it be like with two foreign, inhuman minds in mine? Would they be logical and precise like Delta? Or one of the out-of-control, sanity destroyers that I'd discovered existed? Would they be like the mysterious, yet apparently dangerous, Omega?

The sharp sting of a needle saved me from further contemplation. It… it was almost like getting a shot… just the tiniest pinprick of pressure. Then the area of my neck went numb…

I couldn't feel it at first. I strained to hear them, feel their minds inside me. It was so faint at first. A mere tickle. That developed into a nudge. No, rather it was two nudges. It was them, of course. Their awakening consciousnesses brushed against mine for the strangest, most alien moment. And then, our minds met, touched, retreated back, and touched again, in a shy dance before overlapping and melding together. For a moment in time, I became them. I saw the world as they did: strange, illogical new. Was this what it was like to be a newborn? Curious, yet unknowing of your world? But these beings, these AI, would already know so much…

Something, no, two somethings, always two, rose and fluttered like a leaf. Like a butterfly that had just gotten its wings.

A whisper rose above the currents of my thoughts, two overlapping mental voices, two presences in my head:

"helLO aGENT carOliNA."


	11. Being and Remembering

I sat on the floor of my room, alone, but never alone. I felt the whispers of their minds, thought they, like myself, were quiet.

My armor sat waiting in the cabinet across the room for me; training, my first with my new "partners", was in just an hour. Though we'd been given two days to "acquaint" ourselves with them, everything was still strange and new. My mind, whenever I tried to do anything, was a chaotic jumble of 3 minds' thoughts and emotions. I felt raw, fresh, and on edge with everything as if I was stumbling across broken glass. So I kept still: quiet and unmoving.

But in an hour, I'd be expected to move, shout, climb, fight, and run.

The antithesis of my sanity-saving stillness. Time to become "acquainted".

I exhaled slowly and opened my eyes.

"Artificial intelligence programs, Phi and Mu, report."

"Intelligence program Mu." Mu was an aqua hued armored male hologram. His voice was strangely gruff, yet soothing and calming. He reminded me of my father in the oddest way.

"Intelligence program Phi." Phi was the yin to Mu's yang. While Mu was substantial (for a hologram) - armored and almost non transparent, Phi was light and airy, almost indiscernible at times. She was unarmored and a ghostly white that began to fade into nothingness at her torso. Beautiful long hair floated around her, as if she was suspended in water.

"Oh. Okay. Hello," they stood (or rather hovered) in the air, watching me, waiting, "I want to try something."

I stood slowly and carefully, gauging myself. Well, not myself, all three of us. To my (our?) surprise, I (we?) was fine. I could feel their thoughts, their curiosity, and anticipation, but none of it threatened to overwhelm me.

I stretched my arms to the ceiling, arching them backwards, letting my back follow. My palms met the ground, and I held my body in a bridge. Perfect control. I raised myself into a handstand, holding the position. Total control. If I could control my body, I could control my mind.

But life wasn't serene quiet with the leisure and time to hold still and lock muscles. Life was loud and fierce and wild and chaotic. So I fell out of my handstand and moved to the door, sliding it open. The hall was deserted and dead silent. The others who lived in this hall were either in training, or adjusting to their A.I. It'd make a nice test run. But Phi and Mu couldn't hide. Not if I wanted this to be real.

_Okay, you two, just, well, do your thing... I guess,_ I thought, at a loss for words.

I felt them rise to the surface, the buzz of their thoughts louder, nearer. I could feel their curiosity as they searched my thoughts for what I was about to do. But how could they know, when I didn't?

With a deep breath, I ran forward, throwing my hands into the air. I jumped into a handspring, and let it all flow from there.

I had expected it to be different. I had thought that with their presence, their minds, and their thoughts, I'd be distracted. I'd thought everything would be slower, my movements jerky, my mind distracted.

I could not have been more wrong.

Our three minds blended together, focusing in on a common goal. I felt every imperfection of the floor beneath my hands, sensed the tips of my loose hair flying around me. I was sharp and precise, yet perfectly fluid.

A beautiful contradiction.

I felt the barriers between our consciousnesses fall away. Our minds thinking and moving together in perfect harmony. My mind fell away, falling into theirs.

No... That wasn't right. Not theirs. Phi's.

It was almost like swimming. While my body still moved, and I could still feel and control my limbs, I was separate from it. I wondered what Mu's mind felt like...

But then I felt myself pulled away again and I was falling. But Phi was still with me, as if our minds locked together.

And then...

I was watching myself. I saw my body moving, turn, cartwheeling. To my intense surprise, I saw I had fallen into a routine that I thought had been long forgotten. A routine I'd buried away and shunned. It had been something I'd hated; now, now it made my heart ache and tears well to remember everything it represented.

But despite the ache, it was painless, an unconscious remembering. In this moment, I could remember home.

_Beautiful..._

The thought whispered through my mind. It was neither mine nor Phi's nor Mu's. The shock of the alien thought launched me firmly back into my own mind, slamming the mental barriers closed.

My body flipped once more to finish the move, and unthinkingly, the feet came together and my arms and face to the sky, eyes closed to everything.

"Beautiful..."

A whisper this time, no mental echo.

My eyes snapped open and my arms to my sides at the sound of it. And there, always there, he stood, staring back at me.

York.

He said nothing, merely stared, as if seeing me in some new, strange light. I was shocked beyond movement, my muscles unresponsive and locked.

We stood like that forever. It felt like forever. Where were the others when they would have been useful?

"Cara..." he whispered my name, breaking that awful silence. But it was more awful than the silence could ever be.

But I didn't wait, didn't stay, didn't listen to what he would have said. I couldn't. This was not something he could understand or now; it wasn't something I could share.

So I turned and ran.


	12. The Fall

From the safety of my helmet, I studied the course in front of me. I felt the buzzing of Phi and Mu, their letters lighting up my visor, along with status reports on all three of us.

I had run this course before. But never like this. I had always been alone.

The others had noticed me. I was known enough by name and ability to be recognized. Of course, it was no secret that my mind was a relative boarding house. I could feel his eyes boring a hole in the back of my head. Who else but York?Under normal circumstances, I normally would have told him to bug off, but today I couldn't even look at him. Not after he'd seen me...

_I don't understand._ Mu's quiet tickling voice whispered across my mind.

_You don't have to._

_She - _

_Phi. Mu. Quiet. Please. Now. _I cut off the flickering lights of my A.I. I needed to concentrate.

I turned my back to the course, stepping away from it. Exhaling deeply, I briefly touched my toes, then stood up and spun around, facing the looming course once more. Worry danced around in the corners of my mind, causing to wonder how this would go. True, my exercise in the hall had been... well, nothing short of euphoric (until the end), but the yard and my abandoned hallway were not entirely synonymous. The yard buzzed with an almost tangible life and energy, with an incessant undercurrent of activity.

I sighed, trying to clear my cluttered my mind. It used to be so simple... Once more I could feel them, watching me, waiting for me, wondering why this time, I hesitated.

_You can't stand here forever._

This thought was purely mine, and I knew it to be true. Expelling the last traces of doubt from my mind, I took off into the course, leaving everything - the worry, the fear, the noise, even York, behind.

Armor, I decided, was strange. In ways, it both did and did not restrict me. I could feel its obvious bulk and weight on my body, but I could tell I could reach just as far, stretch just the same, and twist my body in every way I did without it, with it.

It was strange.

Running with Phi and Mu like this was almost trance-like. I could feel myself slipping farther and farther into them, losing the walls I'd built up between our minds. Time was nothing to me - to us - and slipped by without notice. In what seemed like seconds, the end of the course was in sight, with only the trench left to cross. I could see the bars that spanned the trench, beckoning to me, waiting.

_~~~shjashajahs~~~_

The whisper tickled at my mind, foreign and uninvited.

_What the hell was that?_

_alphaaa..._

_Phi! Mu! One of you! Both of you! Stop!_ I screeched in my head, trying to stay focused as the trench neared ever closer.

But there was no answer.

The whisper rose up again, mournful and incessant, untouchable and _wrong_.

_alpha... alphaa... whyyy... whyyyyy... WHY?_

The whisper rose to an earth shattering screeching, pouring a fiery pain into my skull, leaving no quarter, just as leaped into the air.

The screech exploded further, tearing my mind apart, filled with pain and sorrow and anger and madness. As it felt it, so did I.

I shrieked as I never had before, experiencing this infinite and unbearable pain. I could do nothing but feel it, and try vainly to hide from it. I could distantly feel my back arch and my fingers just barely brush a metal bar.

_No!_

Swathed in pain though I was, I could still clearly feel the panic and desperation as I fell to the ground. But the screeching did not allow me to become distracted; it demanded my attention.

_Oh god, please make it stop,_ I prayed as the tears came the pain tearing through every corner of my mind.

Then my shoulder connected with hard earth and sweet pure simple physical pain blossomed in the spot. But in no way could it ever possibly compare to the raging in my head.

And then. Then it abated just the tiniest bit. It was still angry and furious and loud, but it was quieting. I could almost hear something else...

"Carolina! CAROLINA! CARA!" My name over and over, calling for the rest of me. Who called me?

Someone hovered over me, but I was still lost to the pain. My head began to shake, but not by my own action. Hands fumbled at my helmet, struggling to remove it.

I saw him now behind a blurred veil of tears and pain.

"Just hold on, Cara, everything's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay."

I struggled to see him as he hovered over me, his hand pressed against my mind apart. It felt so nice and cool...

The pain... The voice... Finally it fell to a whisper once more.

_why...why...gam... why... _

_Pleasepleaseplease, go away_

I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain, praying for my sanity to return.

Silence.

Blissful, blessed, beautiful silence.

I cried out silently with relief. Thank God.

I felt myself falling away into the darkness of unconsciousness. I could feel him near me, feel him lifting me into his arms. The last echoes of pain died away.

_please... help us..._

* * *

It rained again.

I sat with my head resting against the cold glass pane of my window, watching raindrops race down the glass. They met, separated, raced for the bottom. Were they aware their end was so near, I wondered. I watched and wondered: anything to ignore the flickering glows of white and cerulean, refracting through glass and water.

"Carolina… Please… Please, talk to us…"

I closed my eyes, wishing I could truly ignore them. But of course that was impossible, so I just pretended they weren't there. Instead I focused on adjusting the strap of my sling – a constant reminder of their constant presence. I sighed, remembering the doctor's orders – no exerting my left arm for a week, and I had to wear this sling. It was just a dislocated shoulder – practically nothing.

"Carolina – "

"Stop. Just don't."

"Please, you have to understand – "

"Programs command: offline."

"Complying."

Over their resigned voices, I heard a gentle knocking on my door. It slowly slid open and he was there. Of course he was.

"Mind if I come in?" His soft voice carried across the room, kind and hesitating.

"Would I anything I say stop you anyway?"

He smiled a little at that, as if it was some grand joke, "Probably not," he replied, stepping inside.

"What did you want, York?" I turned back to the window, back to the rain.

"You know why I'm here."

"I fell," I answered in a deadpan emotionless voice, closing my eyes.

"I was rather looking for a why." He slid down onto the bench next to me, watching me as I watched the rain. "The doctor said you mentioned… voices?" The last part was a question, as if he was confirming my new found insanity.

"Voice. Just one," I corrected him, my voice hardly a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of the rain.

"Who was it, Carolina?" He placed a hand on my good arm, trying to comfort me. York was so soft and gentle, trying to coax a response, an answer that made sense somehow. But nothing made sense.

"Why do you even care? About this? About me? What's in it for you?"

Slowly, he removed his hand from my arm, but only to bring it to my chin. His hand was soft and warm, everything the rain was not.

"What do you think – "

"I get a partner that I know and that I trust. Someone I can count, in a fight and out. Someone I'm there for, and someone who can be there. That's what I get. That's why I care. So you'd better get used to it, Cara."

With that he tipped my head forward, and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. Leaving me gaping and shell-shocked, he leaped up from the bench, leaving me alone.

I sat there, shocked beyond any kind of reaction. What had just happened?

Phi chirped through my shock:

"I like him."


	13. Interruptions

I was so tired of sitting still. So tired of being constricted and restrained. Only ever able to watch, and never to run.

Stupid sling.

That I had to wear it at all was ridiculous; I'd dislocated my shoulder, not shattered it.

'_It's there to help.' _Mu replied to my sulking.

'_It's a nuisance.' _I shot back.

'_The doctors just want you to get better. After all, what use would you be broken?_'

'_Thanks for that, Phi. So wonderfully helpful, you are.'_

'_What did I say?'_ She replied, thrown by my sarcasm.

I shook my head, as if that simple action could truly clear it. Nothing could. Not now. My head was not my own. More and more, it was theirs.

'_We are not the enemy.' _Mu pleaded, as he had since… the accident.

'_So you say.'_

'_We suffered with you when - '_

'_I know._' I gritted my teeth. Of course I knew. How could they lie to me? For all they were in my mind, I was in theirs. Their pain was as real to me as my own.

But it was different.

I closed my eyes, unable to stop from remembering it through their eyes.

Mu's constant, unyielding calm and stoicism had been shaken by the first scream, broken by the second. Sweat clung to my palms as his panic came back to me. He had reached for us, but we were gone. I was lost to the screaming, to the pain. And Phi…

Phi had been nothingness. Not even darkness. She had disappeared, no where to be found. As if she had disappeared from my mind all together.

As if she had died.

But then, as soon as the voice stopped, she was back. Right alongside Mu, wondering what was wrong with us. Wondering what happened.

'_Phi?_' I could feel her curiosity, her unspoken answer to my call.

'_How do you not remember it?'_

'_I don't know…'_ She murmured, mournful almost.

I fell silent then. Nothing would come of reviewing this. They had no more answers than I did. I didn't even know which questions to ask.

I leaned back against the wall of the yard, frustrated even more. At least when I was mad at the stupid sling, I knew what I was mad at. But I knew nothing about this. I was lost.

"Watch it, Wash! You're gonna kill me like that!" Oklahoma's shout and peal of laughter pierced through the noise I'd blocked out, rousing me from my semi-conscious state.

She was so strange, Almost like York. She laughed and danced and shouted all while she "sparred" with Washington. I had yet to see a block actually connect, on either's part.

Yet the strangest thing about her was her kindness. She'd sent me a note telling me to feel better. Me, a total stranger with whom her only interaction had been a faux attack at a clandestine meeting. It had been an unexpected reminder of what I no longer had, what I had lost. I couldn't remember the last time anyone had sent me anything that wasn't orders. It was surreal.

'_Is that why you kept it?'_

'_Mu!'_

'_You put it with your socks; did you forget?'_ phi

I blushed furiously, still not used to there being two people who I couldn't lie to, couldn't hide things from. Hell, I couldn't even lie to myself anymore.

'_Why would you want to lie to yourself?' _

The full force of Phi's confusion and total lack of understanding hit me, causing me to erupt into laughter. What blissful ignorance. But it was a cold and harsh laughter, composed of amusement at Phi's confusion, but my own need to deceive myself. Hell, I lied to everyone else, as well. My shoulders shook as I leaned against the wall, wiping bitter tears from my eyes. I probably looked mad to everyone else around me. But then, I didn't know I wasn't.

"So which one's the joker, dear Carolina?"

My head snapped up at the strange, accented voice, which had instantly sobered me. I felt the last vestiges of the laughter leaving me cold alone.

_Not alone. Never alone._

And somehow those strange nonhuman A.I. comforted me more than any human could. I looked at the strange speaker. His head blocked out the afternoon sun, casting his features in shadow.

'_I think I know him… Why do I know him?'_

With my back against the wall, I slowly slid up, bringing us to a more even level. And then it hit me.

I was back in that dark subterranean room, fighting Texas for answers, listening to Delta's enigmatic answers as he cast his green light across the room. He'd been behind Delta, his features cast in that green light. Then York was leading me from the room, and I had looked back to catch the briefest glimpse of he and Texas standing together.

"Excuse me?" I struggled to keep an even tone. Something about this man unnerved me… set me on edge.

"Well when a freelancer bursts into laughter when they are seemingly alone, signs _do _tend to point to an onboard passenger. Of which, _you_ have two."

I couldn't have told you why, but I hated this man. I hated the air of smug arrogance he carried with him, hated his nasally accent which I could barely recognize. But most of all, I hated the way he knew about me.

"Why do you know about my A.I.?"

"Well, my dear Carolina, you and your A.I. are quite the talk of the town… especially after your little tumble." He smirked and nodded to my sling. Bastard.

"Don't."

"Pardon?"

"Don't call me that. I am NOT your "dear Carolina." I am not your _anything_. And my A.I. are none of your business." I simmered with restrained rage, unable to stand his condescension.

_He's bad._

_Phi?_

_He's bad. Can't you feel it? It radiates off him in these awful, hot waves._

_No, I don't, Phi…_ I wondered if this was an A.I. thing.

_I have no such reading,_ Mu interjected, taciturn as always.

_He's full of hatred and pain. Pain that he wants to cause. And deceit. He is woven of lies and trickery._

_You do realize this makes no sense, right? That what you're spouting is completely ungrounded?_

_You like him no more than I. _

Damn it all if she wasn't right.

"Well pardon me, Agent Carolina. I was unaware I would so anger you."

_Liar._

"What did you want? Why did you come over here? I don't know you. You don't know me."

He smirked again, "Oh but you will, darling."

That was it. I'd suffered enough of his condescending garbage. Enough of his stupid names. I lunged forward with my good arm, reaching to twist one of his arms behind his back and slam him into the wall he'd cornered me against. Unfortunately, it turned out one good arm wasn't enough. I found myself with my back shoved against the wall, with both my wrists in the bastard's grip. I tried to be angry and to burn with rage, but it was impossible to burn with anything but pain. My shoulder screamed out against such treatment, against being yanked and twisted around.

"And they wondered why you and Tex didn't get along."

"Let go of me." I said through gritted teeth.

"Now, now, I just want to have a nice talk with you, dear Carolina. I want to get to know the newest conspirator after all."

Conspirator? Shock and confusion leaked through the pain.

A group of faces flashed through my mind: York, Oklahoma, Washington, Texas, this man. Last of all, my own. A single word whispered through my mind: conspiracy.

_Mu?_ I struggled to speak to him, my thoughts jumbled and out of order. What had he just shown me?

_There is some conspiracy among them. Some plot. And York has seemingly added you to their number_.

What? None of this made sense… But before I could reply, or inquire further, a foreign voice interjected.

"Let her go, Wyoming. You know York would kick your ass in a second if he saw this. Or heard about it. You're lucky he's not here. And lucky Carolina's got a bad shoulder. We've both seen her fight. So if you want to stay lucky, leave now, and maybe I won't say anything to him." I recognized that grim voice: Washington.

But why did he care?

"As if that Cyclopean pickpocket could," the man – Wyoming – scoffed, but nonetheless releases my arm, and quickly stepped back.

The minute my good arm was free, I lunged forward and slammed my fist into his face.

"Try that again, and see what happens, scum." _You won't live long enough for York to get angry._

"Son of a bitch!"

I ignored him and looked over to Washington. He was as stoic as I'd ever seen him, but there was concern on Oklahoma's face as she looked on.

But I could only think one thing as I looked at them:

_What is going on here?_


	14. Puzzle Pieces

I sat at my familiar table, pondering everything that had happened. What had Wyoming wanted? What was this all about? Why had Washington and Oklahoma stepped in?

What were they planning?

Shining with aqua light, Mu appeared before me.

"It's about us, statistically speaking."

"Us? As in you and me and Phi?"

"As in the A.I." Phi whispered, appearing near me glass, her light refracting through it like a rainbow. "Us."

"Oh," I whispered softly. Was I hurt by not being included in that 'us'? The very notion was preposterous… Of course it was. "But what about you?"

"Your guess is as good as ours. Without sufficient evidence, any hypothesis would be no more than a shot in the dark."

"Great," I sighed under my breath, "We still know exactly –" I stopped, caught up in a sudden memory.

"Who's Alpha?"

"What?" Both A.I. looked equally flustered, as if I was mad.

"Alpha. Delta mentioned him – it – whatever- but Texas stopped him before he could say anything. He didn't even get the whole name out."

Phi and Mu exchanged looks.

"What?"

"Alpha…" Phi began, uncertain on how to continue.

"Alpha is our source. The A.I. from whom we all originate."

I paused to absorb that. "Okay, I don't understand. What do you mean - originate?"

"All the A.I. come from Alpha. We were all a part of him. We all still are."

I remembered something else Delta had said. "'All are analogous to fragments.' So, you're _pieces_ of Alpha?"

"Fragments." Mu corrected.

"Like… " Phi paused, looking for the right analogy, "Like puzzle pieces."

"Wait, how did you get OUT of Alpha?" I questioned, struck by the thought. As far as I knew, A.I. didn't just spit out new A.I.

Their silence was deafening.

"No one knows," Phi whispered finally.

"You don't remember?" I said incredulous; how could A.I. forget?

"Do you remember being born?" Came Mu's even reply.

"I'm human! You're not! You're a computer program! You CAN'T forget!" I almost shouted, frustrated and desperate for answers.

"It is not that we forgot. It is that we do not remember."

I bit my lip, frustrated and confused. To be honest, I didn't understand much of this. For all I know, A.I. _could_ just create new A.I. But it didn't seem likely.

"Okay, I'll admit I don't know anything about how A.I. work. But this, I know this isn't right. Nothing here is…" I said the last part under my breath, thinking of York, his eye, Texas, Wyoming, everything. Both the agents and the A.I.

Correlation or coincidence?

"Why hello there, Mu. Good day, Phi." My head snapped up at his arrival. Of course he was here.

"And a lovely hello to you, Cara."

"York," I nodded tersely; I had hardly spoken to him since I'd fallen. And since he'd visited me… But I wouldn't let myself waste time thinking about such nonsense. I had more important things on my mind. It was nonsense, I told myself firmly.

_You're funny when you lie!_ Phi looked at me, a half smile on her lips, as I heard the thought she'd sent me.

_Phi!_

_Well, you are._

_Mu, help me, please?_

_She's not wrong…_

_Oh, you can both shut the hell up._

"I heard what happened today, Cara," York interrupted my mental reverie, jolting me from the silent conversation. "With Wyoming," he said the name with such a bitter disdain, I could tell neither of us particularly cared for the other agent. "And I'm sorry."

I stared at him, surprised by the last part. "Why the hell should you be sorry?"

"I should've been there, I should've –"

"Fought my battles for me? You know me better than that." And it was true. York *did* know me better than that, better than anyone else alive.

"Just because you can fight your own battles, doesn't mean you have to, Carolina," He stared at me intensely, his voice still soft.

I broke his gaze and looked down at the table, and muttered, "So I should just let you do everything for me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, dear." And even though my head was down, I could feel him smile.

I fidgeted, uncomfortable with his smile, his casualness, his calling me 'dear.' I had tried to break Wyoming's arm for that, yet I couldn't even bear to tell York not to.

"What's the deal with Wyoming, anyway?" I blurted out, in a frantic need to fill the silence.

I looked up to York's darkened face. "He's Tex's partner. Also the worst piece of dirt I've ever met. He'd shoot you in the back, then call you 'mate' and "apologize" for it. He's ruthless and hides it behind a mask of manners and bad jokes."

I nodded silently. I'd experienced it first hand after all. "Are he and Texas close?"

"As close as anyone who's not her fiancé can be." He shrugged.

"Wait, her fiancé?" I asked incredulously. Texas had not seemed… the marriage type.

He scoffed, "Yeah, I know, it surprised the hell out of me too. Seems there's not only someone who puts up with Tex, but loves her. Who knew. The universe is a crazy place, after all."

"The craziest," I murmured, thinking of just this lone place, of my entire life. Loves could be destroyed in a second, and families could be torn apart by death and disaster.

And yet there were unexpected fiancés. Glimmers of light in suffocating darkness. Stars in the vacuum of space.

"Cara? You okay?" York stirred me from my reflections. So often, I drifted away in my thoughts. I wasn't used to talking to people.

"Sorry I was lost in thought, I guess."

He smiled, "You do that a lot. Where do you go?"

"I don't know. The universe?" I shrugged my shoulders and smirked softly, almost smiling. But I never smiled.

He laughed softly. Once I'd broken his nose for laughing at me. Now, I found that I loved his laugh. It was light and happy in the midst of all that was dark and confusing. His laugh didn't belong here, and it was all the more wonderful for it.

But what had changed? Him? Or me? Or something completely other?

_You're not convicted to being miserable. _Phi's thought shocked me. What did she mean?

"What do you do after dinner?" York blurted out suddenly, before I could ask Phi what she meant.

"What?" It was a knee-jerk response to his sudden and unexpected inquiry.

"I mean, all I ever see you do is train. So what do you do when it's over?"

I thought a moment before responding, "Well, I – "

"All she ever does is train! She never stops!"

"Phi!"

"So she never relaxes? Never just does something for herself?" He was addressing Phi, as if I wasn't even here!

"Never. We don't think she knows how."

"Not you, too, Mu!"

"Well we should probably fix that, wouldn't you say?"

"Definitely."

"Immediately."

"Delta, can't you control him? Stop him? Something?" I called his A.I., a note of panic rising in my voice.

"I do apologize, but York specifically request that I do not interfere."

"You planned this?" I near shouted at him as he got up, drawing a few, but not many, eyes. How quickly they had learned to ignore York's antics.

"Come on, you have to come, now; you're out-voted." He picked up my hand and pulled me out of my chair as he spoke.

"My own A.I. can't vote against me!" I protested as York pulled me along, now by my wrist.

"We can."

"And we did. We do!"

"Sorry, Cara, really, but you'll thank me later, I promise."

"I'll do no such thing!"

"You'll do need this, Cara. If you keep up like this, you'll burn out completely." He was so sweetly sincere for a moment. "And if you don't, you'll just disappear in a puff of smoke and ashes." And then he returned to form, of course.

"Do I even get to know where you're taking me? _Against_ my will, I might add."

"Nope." He looked back at me, winking with his good eye. "It's a surprise." I stumbled over my own feet for a second, almost falling on my face. I regained my balance, red-faced and embarrassed. I never lost my balance...

He looked at me closely, making me fidget, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled under my breath, barely looking at him. I couldn't believe I had tripped like that. "Let's just go."

York dipped his head to the side, as if perplexed. "Whatever you say," he conceded with a shrug. Without hesitation, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me away.

Why had I tripped like that?


	15. The Big Picture

York pulled me along by my hand, going down a long hall lined with metal doors. Doors like mine. Was this another set of dorms for the agents? Why had he taken me here?

But it was hard to concentrate with York's hand wrapped possessively around mine. His hand was so warm. Not like fire, not hot, but just warm. Perfectly warm, and perfectly comfortable. Being around him was comfortable.

York stopped in front of one of the identical metal doors. But... not identical. Besides just the standard key pad lock, there was a fingerprint scanner and a thin, tall rectangular metal hole. I'd never seen anything like it before.

_I believe it is some kind of lock. _

No lock like I've ever seen. I thought, raising a finger to feel it. How curious.

"It's a lock," York said laughingly, as he saw my investigation.

"I've never seen a lock like this," I scoffed, still disbelieving.

_I told you so. _

_Shut it._

Phi giggled at the exchange.

_Oh, don't help._

"Then you," he removed a thin jagged piece of metal from his pocket, "Are obviously not from the 'old country.'" He slid the piece of metal into the "lock" and turned it. He smirked triumphantly as the door opened.

"Oh, you can all shut up," I muttered under my breath and pushed past him into the room.

I'd never seen a messier room in my life. And I'd been best friends with a 17 year old boy back home. The bed was a tangled mass of sheets and blankets. Clothes collected in the corners of the room and flowed out from under the bed. A table dominated the room, overflowing with metal bits and wire bobs, and what looked like the remnants of various locks.

He'd obviously made himself at home, here at Project Freelancer.

"This is your room?" I turned back around, as if to confirm it.

"And the best place to relax that I know of, in the whole of the base." He smiled, "And you definitely need to relax."

"Relax? You're still on that?" I asked, crossing my arms, trying not to wince as I moved my bad shoulder.

"Relax. Sit down. Read something." He gestured to a shelf bursting with books, packed together without a single space left, as he plopped into a chair.

Unconsciously, I gravitated towards it, running my hands along the spines.

"You've read all these? You **own** all these? They must be worth a fortune..." Printed books were practically antiques; printing had gone out of practice decades ago. Everything was electronic.

"Hand-me-downs, scavenged junk, hell, some of them are stolen."

I whipped back around, "Stolen?"

"Yes, stolen. Stolen by a hungry man for his hungry son. Stolen to dull the gnawing ache of hunger." The intensity he said it with instantly quelled my indignation. I, after all, was not the only one who had secrets.

"Oh..." I whispered at a loss, but needing to say **something**.

He softened, "Sorry. I get kinda defensive about those books. They're one of the few things I have left of him. I had them shipped here when I knew this was rather permanent."

I thought of my own father. Lost to me years ago. And yet the pain of his death still brought tears to my eyes.

_Why are you sad? _Poor Phi, who could feel everything, and experience it for herself, but didn't understand it. She was little more than a child.

_It is called grief_, Mu interjected. Mu, who was ever stoic and stone-faced, but always understanding. What a perfect pair they made.

_I'm sad because my father is gone, Phi. I'm sad because I never said goodbye. I'm sad because I'll never share another moment with him._

"I understand that. Family, I mean. They make us crazy, I think. I don't know anything else that can cause us such insane happiness and inane pain."

He chortled, "That's a good description of it."

I dropped onto a corner of the bed nearest the shelf. "My father used to drive my mother crazy. She was constantly after him to get a desk job. To stay home." I paused, "But they were always so happy."

"Your dad was a military man, right? You said something about it that first day."

"Lieutenant Daniels," I nodded. I knew my father's rank, DOB, blood type, everything they put on a dog tag. My hand drifted closer to the tags that hung heavy around my neck.

"You wear a lot of tags." York noticed my hand, "Whose...?" He trailed off, leaving it to me to finish.

"Mine. Before and after becoming Carolina... And my father's."

He said nothing, and the silence grew to fill the room. God, why had I told him all that?

_You need to talk. You can't just keep everything locked away._

I ignored her. Why had I done that? He didn't need to know about my father.

"My father was a thief and a crook. No upstanding officer like yours," His revelation broke the terrible silence. "He was a poor man who couldn't pay for a doctor for his sick and pregnant wife. It was a miracle anyone survived. That I survived. My mother didn't." York never looked up from the table, tinkering intently with a lock.

"But I did survive. And somehow, my father kept me alive. He worked when he could, and stole when he couldn't – which coincidentally, was almost all the time. And all the while he taught me how to keep surviving. How not to be seen, how to slip away from a pursuer, how to make your own path through a maze."

"How to pick locks," I finished.

"Yeah," he looked up at me. "You could say he was teaching me how to be New York." He looked back down as Phi and Mu appeared, and mutely watched him. Delta ignored us, focusing on the puzzle in York's hands. "Not that he ever imagined I'd be military. He didn't imagine much of anything, except his next meal."

"You seem bitter."

"Bitter?" His head snapped up, "Never. I loved the old man, and he did his best by me. But he never saw a future. He was too busy scraping to get by. I, on the other hand, just liked – " he snapped two of the metal pieces he was working with together "– to see how the pieces come together. The bigger picture."

He held out the finished lock – a circular electronic padlock seemingly without any means of opening it – to me.

I reached out for it slowly, turning it over in my hands. You could barely feel where the two pieces came together. How had he made this from all that junk?

"Why tell me all this, York?"

"Because, Carolina, you and I are friends. Whether you accept it or not. But more importantly, because **you** need to see how the pieces come together. Because you **need** to see the bigger picture."


End file.
